


Unlucky

by hdarchive



Series: Bad Luck Verse [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, barista!kurt, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3316976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s just Blaine’s luck that the barista at the new coffee shop is really, really cute. It gets even better when a condom falls out of his wallet in front of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unlucky

**Author's Note:**

> One of the first fics I've written! Finally decided to upload it here.

Blaine has said his coffee order at least thirty times in the past two weeks. It was finals week, and he was up at the crack of dawn and sleeping for a few hours at a time, so he’s been living off of coffee for a while now - at least more than usual.

He knows his coffee order, word for word, and he’s pretty sure every barista in his neighbourhood knows it by now as well. Yet he finds himself in line in a new coffee shop, practicing his order in his mind over and over because this barista is intimidatingly gorgeous and Blaine is beginning to panic.

_Medium hazelnut latte with an extra shot of espresso._

_No, wait, hazelnut? Vanilla. It’s vanilla. No, no, it was hazelnut. Latte. Or is it macchiato? Is macchiato even a real word? Should I just order a regular cup of coffee?_

The thump of his heart is almost audible to every customer in the shop, Blaine thinks, and he bites hard on his lip as he practices his order one more time.

It’s not fair, because he knows he’s going to mess it up and then he’ll be too embarrassed to say anything so he’ll be forced to drink the wrong coffee. It’s also not fair, because this barista is so out-of-this-world gorgeous that he shouldn’t be a barista in the first place. How dare he take orders and make coffee when he should be on the cover of Vogue, and not ruining Blaine’s day?

Blaine watches the man smile, teeth peaking out as he does, and he greets the next customer in line. Model-like doesn’t even begin to describe what he looks like, with his swooped up hair that shines in the afternoon sun, and blue eyes that are richer than coffee.

He’s so busy staring at the barista that he doesn’t even realize it’s his turn to order until somebody is poking him in the shoulder and telling him to move up.

That’s when the real panic begins.

“Hi there! How are you today?” The barista greets him, smile wider than it was before.

Oh god, oh dear god he sounds like an angel. Like his voice could solve world hunger and cure cancer but at the same time give Blaine cavities because it’s so sweet.

Sweat begins to bead at Blaine’s forehead, and suddenly his mouth feels like it’s full of sand and he doesn’t know what to do. This is ridiculous, this is just ordering coffee, and yet Blaine can’t even speak english.

“H-hi-”

The man laughs, and it’s so delightfully high and sweet, igniting the fire in Blaine’s heart.

“You sound like you definitely need coffee,” he jokes, smile never wavering, and he looks so intently at Blaine, makes him feel so _seen_ that the rest of the store seems to disappear.

“Sorry -” Blaine chokes out, bows his head to take a quick breath. “I’m doing good. And yourself?”

He’s amazed that he can even form words, let alone smile and engage in conversation with this _godsend._

“Just great! Now what can I get for you?”

Blaine’s mind completely blanks. There’s nothing but white space and this man’s face, and his mouth falls open as nothing comes out.

“Medium hazelnut latte?” Blaine starts, and he’s mostly asking himself, but then the barista nods and punches something into the till. “W-with an extra shot.”

“Got it. And can I get your name?”

Shit. Shit. He knows he has a name, he knows what that name is, he’s just forgotten it at this current date and time.

“Sir?” The barista asks, cup and pen in hand as his eyes lock onto Blaine’s.

“Blaine. My name. Blaine is my name.”

The barista’s grin widens, and his tongue pokes out of the side of his mouth as he jots down Blaine’s name and passes it on to another employee. “That’ll be $3.75 please.”

Oh, right. Coffee costs money. Blaine’s wallet definitely knows that, could never forget that. All his coffee drinking combined could probably rack up to a month of rent, and he knows he’ll need to cut back soon. But maybe this new coffee shop can become his regular place, especially if _he’s_ working here.

Blaine digs his wallet out of his backpocket, and he can feel his pulse return to normal now that the worst part is over. He did it, he (sort of) successfully ordered coffee.

His fingers catch around a five dollar bill, and he goes to pull it out of the wallet to hand to the barista when something else falls out. Lands on the counter right in front of him almost silently, but the packaging is so metallic and shiny that both of their eyes draw to it. And it’s so blatantly obvious what it is that Blaine feels like the entire world is looking at it.

Then Blaine isn’t sure what to register first. All the color runs out of his face, leaving his cheeks stark white and eyes bleak. His heart races harder than it ever has before, makes his limbs feel like jello and his spine feel like liquid, bones suddenly too heavy, and he feels like he’s falling.

Everything is falling. His stomach, his heart, his mind.

On the counter, directly in front of the ridiculously attractive barista, is a condom.

“Well, that certainly doesn’t look like $3.75,” the other man says, a little breathlessly, and Blaine’s amazed he can even hear him over the heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

“Oh my god -” Blaine squeaks, hands trembling on the counter. “I don’t - I didn’t - that’s not mine - I don’t even know how - oh my god -”

The barista chuckles, sounds a little squeaky himself, but then he’s picking the condom up to hold it and Blaine feels like he’s going to die. He would give anything for a bolt of lightning to come down and strike him, or for an alien spaceship to come and whisk him away, or maybe even for the power to melt right through the floor.

His blue eyes scan over it, eyebrows raising momentarily, and then he’s meeting Blaine’s horrified gaze. “I think this belongs to you.”

Blaine’s shaking fingers go to grab at it, missing almost completely and brushing the barista’s hand.

“Th-thanks - I mean - no, it doesn’t, I, uh - thanks.”

Once it’s tucked neatly away (and Blaine is going to burn it when he gets home, maybe he’ll burn his entire supply of condoms) he feels the spinning world come wheeling to a stop.

The barista clears his throat, and there’s two spots of pink high on his cheeks, making him look that much lovelier. Blaine realizes that he’s still expecting the money, and he flushes harder as he very, very carefully fishes it out.

It’s a few moments later that his drink is being called out, and it takes Blaine a couple of deep breathes before he can move from his spot to collect it.

“Here you go, Blaine,” the barista says, enunciating his name, and it sounds so magical coming from him. Because oh yeah, that’s his name, he sort of forgot. “One _extra large_ hazelnut latte.”

“Oh, it was a medium -” Blaine freezes, the pit of his stomach dropping, and he stares up with horrified eyes at the man in front of him. Oh.

The barista’s smile twitches into a grin, a sly line of his lips that make him look like some mischievous mythical creature.

“Whoops, sorry. That’s what I meant,” he says, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all.

He smiles, and then he’s placing the drink on the counter and walking away.

Blaine’s heart is still racing, gut still hollow, and his fingers shake as he picks up his drink.

A few sips of the hot liquid brings him back to planet earth, and he nearly sprints outside to the fresh air. For whatever reason, he survived it. He just experienced the most embarrassing moment to ever occur in the history of humanity, and he made it. Blaine hopes and prays that the barista isn’t telling all his co-workers, because then word will catch on and soon Blaine won’t be able to show his face anywhere.

It’s not until he’s halfway done his drink that he notices there’s something else written on the side of his cup.

_How about next time I do the ordering for the both of us?_

_-Kurt_

It’s the little smiley face that has Blaine grinning, and the phone number scrawled underneath it that has his head dizzy in a way completely different from embarrassment.

Maybe it was the worst moment of Blaine’s life, and maybe he’ll never be able to forget the horror that spread through his body the second the condom fell out. But maybe, just maybe, it was meant to happen.

_Kurt._

He smiles to himself, already planning out the text he’s going to send later (he’ll write a rough draft when he gets home. There is no chance in hell he’s messing up again). Blaine knows for a fact he will never, ever live this down. And if he had any sense at all he’d stay clear of that little coffee shop for the rest of his New York City life, but he thinks he might just be a new regular customer now.


End file.
